Fate's Way
by crazedgirlz
Summary: Loss, tragedy, pain. It all brings people together. But when fear of past and future strucks they will be torn apart. Or will they? A story of two people who couldn't be more in love, but what happens when they are torn appart?
1. Preface: Alice

PREFACE: _Alice_

**M**_y life had always been filled with endless darkness. Everything had always been a solemn repetition: pain and sorrow, pain and sorrow. As soon as I felt I've finally found a light, a soft candlelight that steadily grows to become a roaring fire that brightly illuminates my entire universe, someone just has to come along with a dark hole for a heart and pour a bucket of water upon my future. _

_But when the flame was extinguished this time, consequently, the darkness became even darker then what I remembered because the memory of the light would be forever locked inside me. And you can't help but hope that the light will someday come back, but with each passing day the hope dimes until, finally, it is gone. And when it is gone, all you ever feel like doing is curling up in a corner to be drowned in self-pity._

_I slowly looked down at the letter in my hands, its crumpled surface tearstained by the droplets that still ran relentlessly down my pale cheeks from my violet eyes. _

Why me?

_I could only think of one thing that I needed to ever be punished for, but did God have to be so evil? I think that the path fate had pushed me down was treacherous and surely death was preferable._

Death was preferable…

_I slowly and almost painfully lifted myself off the wine colored armchair that sat before an empty fireplace. As though I had age a century, I made my way to the polished wood staircase that glowered at me sadly in the dimly-lit room. _

_My arms barely holding my weight as they tightly gripped the forlorn handrail, I pushed myself desperately to my room and what I hoped could bring a certain amount of comfort. It did little help, the room held too many memories, memories I know I should forget, but I know I never will._

_I lowered myself onto the bed and contemplated death. I wasn't scared of it. I've already attempted it, but then I was more fearful, left opportunities for people to stop me. No. Even_ _if death sounded like the most comfortable thing I could imagine, I wouldn't go the easy way now. The easy way always brought me regrets. I have a reason o live, albeit a small reason in a way, it is still a reason and I will do it the hard way. I'll push aside my weakness, my thoughts of death, and let that small reason keep me going. The only question left was: how long can I keep that small reason in enough light, for me not to give up on it?_

_I guess fate will show its way…_


	2. Preface: Jasper

PREFACE: _Jasper_

**T**_here goes my life. It flashes before my eyes, never stopping, never a happy sight, never a slimmer of hope. With it goes my every wish to make my life have been worth living. In my whole 17 years of life, this is all I achieved: death and hatred. Why? Because life was unfair, because my mother was gone, and because my father had rage flashing in his eyes. _

_I saw pain in my past and hell in my future. I could only pray that Rose was alright in the midst of all this. She didn't deserve to have her life turn off like a light bulb. A delicate, beautiful light bulb who if ever turned off would never manage to be lit again, plunging the world into eternal darkness._

_At least that was how I saw it._

_To most, she was a hot chick that had a dirty mouth, a bad past, and whose death would just be another to add in the statistics' charts. I couldn't bear to let that happen._

_I hear someone screaming at me, but I can't tell what they are screaming. Then, all of a sudden, I could hear a soothing voice in my ear, but again the words spilling out of my comforter's lips were indistinguishable to my confused ears. _

_Life is unfair. That is the hard truth everyone has to learn sometime in their life. I just learned it earlier than most. I learned it as soon as my childlike brain had been able to identify my first words._

_How can something as beautiful as life have so many deficiencies, so many ways to go wrong? I don't know why I agreed to let this go on for so long, it's not as if my life will be much of a difference to anyone._

_I managed to open my eyes a crack to see someone I had never seen before in my life. _

_It was a man, wearing a worried expression. He was tall, had blond hair and compassionate gray eyes, his lips were set in a frown and his angular face was turned to me. _

_Who was he? What was he doing here? Was he here to calm or agitate the storm raging through me? _

_Questions kept clouding my mind and vision. Everything was turning black around the edges and the black was spreading fast. Soon my entire field of vision was covered and I could think no more._


	3. Death?

ONE: _Jasper_

**W**here am I?

A bright light was shining directly above me, blinding me. Was this death? I did not want to die if it was supposed to be this painful. This was probably how you were supposed to feel when burned to a stake.

Suddenly I could hear a voice speaking softly to me. Maybe it was an angel? No, that would be impossible. How would I end up in heaven? Hell was surely more fitting for a person like me, wasn't it?

"Jasper," said the voice, "Can you hear me?"

I wanted to answer, but I couldn't seem to manage to find my mouth, much less my voice.

"Can you try to move your hand, Jasper?" said the voice.

I have a hand? If I was dead, how was I supposed to have a hand? Had this angel lost his mind? Wait a second…

Suddenly I felt something wrap itself around my hand. So I _did_ have a hand. How?

Well, death isn't turning out to be how I expected. I used to have three theories. Two were about how Iwould die and one for the deathofmysister.

Theory one consisted of endless darkness. We die and it's over. Just blackness, so deep and penetrating that it eliminated all else. No pain, no sorrow, no light, and most importantly no feeling.

Theory two was basically hell. Fire burning throughout the whole world, people screaming for mercy and a devil to make our lives worse and make even the considering of escape impossible.

Theory three was one that wouldn't apply to me. It was the place where good people who did no wrong went. Someplace light, happy, where everything and everyone is carefree, looking down to a troubled world. The commonly known and believed story that tells of wing-clad angels, pristine white clouds and children playing.

But this? This seemed to be a sick mixture of it all. Pain was everywhere. There seemed to be an angel and a white light so it eliminated theory one and theory two, but heaven was supposed to be painless. But what really stumped me was the idea of having limbs, having actual muscles and bones.

This just couldn't be death.

Mustering all my strength, both physical and mental, I softly squeezed the angel's hand.

"That's good Jasper," the angel complimented me, "Try opening your eyes now."

_Eyes?_ God! This was getting stranger by the minute. There was no way that I could be dead. But wasn't the possibility of me being alive even more far-fetched?

Gingerly, I opened my eyes to take in the unimaginable.

I was, in what could only be a hospital room. Ask me how I got here? No idea. Ask me how the hell I managed to be alive? I have no clue. But here I was, and I can't do anything but gawk.

"I'm alive?" I croaked. My throat was sore and I felt like a piece of trash, but at least I'm alive, right?

"Yes, Jasper, you're alive," his voice sounded like he actually cared, something I wasn't used to.

All my life people either ignored me, or treated me like I belonged in a dumpster, like I wasn't actually a person. I never really understood. We are all people, we all are born, live a while, then die. It's all the same,

but why is it then, that people that live like you do, are treated so differently?

I'll tell you why, because no one sees this world, this life, these moments, exactly the same way as the person next to him. And so, we treat this life and the people in it, the way they see it. And let's just say that some points of view don't decide to respect what they are and what other beings are. And that how you achieve crime, abuse, disrespect, anger, dread, hatred, and everything else that makes life itself, become unfair.

Right now, in this hospital bed, laying on clear white sheets and talking hoarsely, I was meeting one of the few people in these lifetimes that actually saw the world in a good way and strove to complete the impossible: make life fair.

"Rose?" I questioned. There was nothing else for me to worry about, she was the only thing that was left of good in my life and she was to remain so in my eyes.

"She's fine," he assured me, "Worried, but otherwise fine. You were in coma for four days now, no one was sure if you were going to make it. Your sister is out in the hallway. You can see her through that glass."

His erect finger pointed to a glass wall in my room. The glass was pristine, like everything else in this place, and a thin, white curtain was hanging limply, thrown aside to show the world outside this cocoon of a room. Outside, in the hallway I could see the unmistakable figure of his twin pacing up and down the worn blue-green tiled floor. Her nimble fingers were wringing the fingers of her other hand.

She was the image of worry and restlessness. But incredibly this was probably the best I had seen her in ages. Her cheeks seemed more colored, fuller, her clothes were clean and ironed, and the ferocious flare that had always colored her eyes seemed to have come back with a vengeful force.

I knew that I would never find someone exactly like my twin. She was different from anything out there and her experience seemed to have fortified her nature, somehow made her a better, stronger person. It's truly incredible how hard situations sometimes bring out the best in people.

Trying to no avail to make my voice stronger, I whispered to my doctor, "Can I see her?"

The doctor paused a moment in his note-taking and seemed to be considering my question. I looked intently at him; trying to see his decision before he made it, but his face was impenetrable. For a few minutes the room was completely silent aside from the consistent beeping of my heart monitor.

After what seemed to me to be an eternity the doctor parted his lips, took a deep breath and answered me, "I don't see why not."

And with that he stepped outside to the corridor. He quickly whispered something to Rosalie and she looked up, gazing directly into my eyes. I could see relief smooth out her worry lines as a soft smile began playing at the corner of her rose colored lips.

She placed her hands to her heart as she ran to the window, tears streaming down her face. I weakly raised my hand in acknowledgement to her and she turned to ask something to the doctor to which he nodded.

Before I knew it, my sister, my twin, was standing by my bedside.

"Hey, sis," I whispered.

For a moment her face was impassive, then, to my surprise, she slapped me. It wasn't enough to physically harm me, but she sent the message through.

"Hey! What was that for?" my voice was a bit stronger, but it still came out in a whisper.

"Don't ever scare me like that again!" she said, her shrill voice undertone because of our settings. "You were out for four days! I thought I'd never see you again!"

"Sorry?" I put it as a question.

"You should be," she huffed.

"How about you?" I asked worried, "Are you OK?"

She nodded lightly and ducked her head, "They did the rape kit on me."

Shit! I can't believe the bastard actually did that!

"Rose," I said, shaking my head and straining to keep my voice steady and not let anger take over me, "he didn't."

She once again nodded.

"He was drunk," she whispered, "After you passed out, he turned on me. I managed to grab a lamp and hit him on the head. That's when I dialed nine-one-one."

I kept shaking my head. How could such a thing happen to my frail, innocent sister?

Most wouldn't agree to even consider the possibility of Rose being frail, like her name. But to me there was nothing in the world more fragile. Years of hardships built up a protective wall around her, making her seem a headstrong person, that wouldn't take no for an answer.

But I knew that if you dug in deep enough, you would manage to find a flower. This flower would be colored the deepest red, its petals would be in various layers to form the vision of perfection, and it was this flower after which she was named. And maybe, a long time ago a crystal vial might have encased it. But over the years that crystal shattered and thick brick walls took its place.

"Calm down, Jasper," she said, and all I could think was: _what a stupid request_, "Your heart rate increased too much, don't give yourself a heart attack."

That's when I noticed that the continuous beeps that told me the rhythm of one of my two most important organs in my body had accelerated ten-fold.

I immediately breathed in deeply, slowly managing to reduce my heart rate. What was happening to me? I had always seemed to manage to control myself, my temper. But when it was unleashed some would say that it was as cutting as a blade, as unforgettable as death, as suffocating as poison. Rage was an emotion that was as rare as water in a desert within me, but occasionally, very much so, it could be found. And now it had taken over all my senses, leaving me helpless.

"Sorry," I murmured quietly.

"Don't sweat it," said Rosalie, brushing it aside.

Just then a light knock was heard from the door.

"Come in!" I shouted out. My doctor walked in a clipboard in hand.

Just as Rose was standing up to leave, the doctor said, "Actually, I have some questions for the both of you."

Rose and I looked at each other, various questions written across our foreheads.

"Your father was arrested for abuse," he said. We nodded; it didn't come as much of a shocker to either of us. "Do you two have any other possible guardian; a mother, family member, friend?"

We saw no necessity to think it over; we knew what the final answer would be. We shook our heads.

"Sorry Dr. Cullen, but our mother is dead, I've got no idea if we have any other family members, and we never really had any good friends," said Rosalie with a slight smile.

"But didn't mom have a little sister?" I asked Rose.

"She did, but she died with cancer a month before mom died," she answered.

"Since you two are still minors I'd have to hand you over to social services, but there is one other option," he said.

_Anything. _The last thing I would want would be to be put in foster homes and risk being separated from Rosalie. I could take anything, but what if Rose was placed with a terrible family? I wouldn't be there to protect her.

"My wife and I just found out we can't have children," said Dr. Cullen, "we wouldn't really mind taking you both in. We have plenty of space and Esme is looking forward to having someone to take care of."

Rosalie and I looked at each other. We weren't expecting that. The man seemed nice enough, but was he really? Our father had looked nice enough, but look how that turned out. And could we really ask for someone to do such a thing?

"Um, Dr. Cullen?" said Rose, "Could we have a minute to discuss this alone?"

He nodded and walked over to the door. "By the way, call me Carlisle," he said before closing the door.


	4. Twins?

ONE: _Alice_

**T**_he blood curdling darkness was so absolute, that if I held my hand right before my eyes, I remained incapable of seeing even an outline of it._

_I turned, trying to see any hint of an exit, help, or even a glimmer of light. There was none. _

Where am I?

_I warily pressed my right foot forward blindly. The smooth rock underneath my bare feet did not present any obstacles. I then placed my other foot ahead. Slowly and carefully, I made my way forward, gradually gaining speed. I kept my hands outstretched, groping the darkness of the blackened room. After what I felt like hours, but was sure was just a few minutes, I began to see a barely discernable glow in the distance. _

_I began running towards it, and, as the light grew stronger, I saw I was wearing a delicate white dress with intricately embroidered flower petals at the bottom, which fell just beneath my knees. I had thin straps that crisscrossed at the back to hold up the smooth silk. The dress had a low back and my long black hair hung loose, covering my bare back with soft ripples._

_I looked up to see that I wasn't in a room at all. The walls that towered above me joined together at the top to create a continuing arc over the stone path I was following. I was in a tunnel._

_The only question in my mind now was: is this light I see at the end of this tunnel my salvation, or will it be a train that will crush the life out of me?_

_A wave of relief crashed over me as I walked into the light and saw that it wasn't an oncoming train. But the relief barely lasted five seconds before a scream echoed around me. It took me a minute or two to realize that the screaming was coming from me._

_The scene that was unfolding before me hit me worse than any train ever could. _

_As soon as I closed my eyes, at an attempt to block the pain that played before me, I felt myself falling through what seemed to be a bottomless pit. I didn't even dare open my fearful eyes and the screams never ceased._

_Out of nowhere I heard voices echoing my name desperately. What did they want? I was way beyond caring about the simplest things. But then light began burning through my closed eyelids. Unable to hold any longer, I opened my eyes, blinking in confusion._

"Alice! Alice! For God's sakes, wake up!"

I refocused my eyesight and was taken aback to find myself back in my room. I felt something wet on my cheek and reached up a shaking hand to see what it was. I touched my burning right eye, only to realize that tears were streaming like river water down my face.

When I looked up to see the indistinct vultures of my brothers staring back down at me I was shocked. I jumped back in bed, consequently smashing the back of my head into my headboard.

"Ow!" I muttered, rubbing the back of my throbbing head. I had thought I was alone.

The larger one, which I knew to be Emmett, let out a large guffaw and I think I saw a hand reach out and smack him loudly on the head. Edward.

My vision cleared and I was able to see that they were both looking down at me with concern. Shit! Another dream. I hated them, but they had been going on for almost two years, why would they stop now? It was foolish of me to hope, I mean, even if I hadn't had any of them for almost a month, they wouldn't just end like that.

"What was it this time?" I looked back up at Edward.

"The tunnel," I replied, my voice emotionless. They were used to this by now. You know, comforting me. They knew every form my fears had taken. And my parents, well they stopped caring a long while ago. Why should they care? I'm just their troubled daughter that caused the death of her very sister. I didn't blame them for ignoring my existence. Some parents would have killed me; others would believe it wasn't my fault. Well, my parents were in the middle, they said they never blamed me, but, three years later, they still couldn't look me in the eye. I couldn't even look at my very reflection in the mirror.

Every time I saw myself I would see her, Cynthia. The blazing violet eyes, cherry-blossom lips, faintly flushed cheeks, heart-shaped face, and the flowing black waves curling down the back of our petite heights. Now that was where the similarities ended.

I was the fashionista, the party girl, electric, exciting girl who did gymnastics and dance lessons, while she was quiet one who got straight A's and dedicated all her free time to the basketball team.

But every time I looked in a mirror I saw her smiling back at me. So I did what anyone else would do to stray from being haunted for life, I changed my appearance, cutting my hair to a short , pixie-style haircut which I liked to put up in spikes.

But did it work? Of course not, because my eyes still echoed her friendly gaze, my lips still formed the same smile she used to sport, and my voice still was an echo of hers. But it eased a bit of the pain, gave me a slither of hope to manage to go on and that's what I did. I moved on, or at least that was what I told myself, but every time I woke in the midst of my screams it called to me, like a sign from above reprimanding me for forgetting her for a single second, for not focusing on my last happy memory of her for every second of every day.

I noticed that I had unconsciously turned to the empty side of my room, the side witch I had no desire to ever fill. Years ago, when I used to pray to have the room for myself, I'd formatted an image of what I would do to the other side of the room, creating my very own dance studio, with a large stereo and a bar for me to do my exercises on. But I gave up on that now, I never danced again since she had died, I never had the energy, the spirit or the will to twirl, jump or even listen to music anymore. What was the point? I was alone, because no one truly understood what I was going through.

The only thing that was still a flower shaped clock that no one had the heart to box up because it- Wait a second! Was that the time?!!! I quickly jumped off the bed and ran over to my closet. The closet space being the only thing I took from my sister after she died. To deal with her death in (my brothers' words not mine) a more mature way, I had began throwing myself headfirst in stores, malls, fashion magazines and even making my own designs. Losing your best friend in the world and giving up your favorite hobby left you with bunches of extra time, and that was something I couldn't take. Extra time is unbearable; you have nothing else to do so your mind inevitably wonders. It wonders to happier times and leaves you in pools of salty tears later on.

Ironically, my grades only went up after Cynthia, a.k.a genius, was gone. It's incredible how the world works these days. I can't bear to let my thoughts overcome me, so I have to pay meticulous attention to everything, leaving my mind busy. What I really hadn't thought about was that listening to what is going on around you includes listening to whatever nonsense your teacher was saying. And now it wasn't nonsense anymore. I began actually putting my brain to work and realized that school could be useful for something other than socializing.

I picked a white blouse that was mostly open at the back and at the front, near the hem tiny silver fireworks were exploding, sleek black jeans, and silver kitty-heels and walked back into the room to the faces of my bemused brothers still sitting at the edge of my bed.

"What are you guys still doing here?" I exclaimed, "We have very little time until school begins and you two need to go get dressed."

Emmett looked at the clock, "Chill, Ali! We still have one hour."

"Exactly!" I exclaimed exasperated, "An hour! And I still have to approve of your clothes, call Bella to make sure she doesn't screw _her_ outfit, approve of your clothes so you don't make a fool of yourselves _again_, take a shower, dress myself, and eat my breakfast while still arriving at school by eight! I overslept _way_ too much!"

Go ahead and call me a Drama Queen, because I won't act like I won't act like I don't know it. That's what I am, I've been like this since I was born and I'll probably be like this until I die.

"Alice," said Emmett's whiny two-year-old voice, "We can get dressed without you approving what we wear!"

"Really?" I asked dubiously.

They both nodded.

"Can any of you remember what happened the last time I let you guys get dressed by yourselves?" I questioned, two blank faces met my inquiry, "Well, I'll tell you guys what happened. Emmett, you went dressed as an army man and then fooled Edward into thinking it was pajama day at school, then C-Cynthia went in her basketball uniform! And since I was sick in bed and didn't see you guys until you came back, I had no way of seeing the mess you guys made until you came back from school and the deed was done."

Shit! There come the tears again! Why do I have to be so sensitive? I quickly wiped them away, together with the memory of my sister in going to school in her basketball uniform.

I shooed Edward and Emmett out of my room and walked to the bathroom that was now only mine and took a quick shower. I rubbed my skin ferociously, hoping that the memory of the dream could also come off and go down the drain. Of course, it was all for nothing.

I put on my clothes quickly and turned to the mirror. I covered all the remnants of the sleepless night with make-up and added a bit of mascara and lip-gloss. I put my hair up in its usual spiked fashion and walked out of the bathroom.

I grabbed my schoolbag in my room, fishing out my cell phone while walking down the staircase. I typed a message to Bella as a sat down at the breakfast table, not bothering to look at my parents.

**What are you wearing, Bells?**

Pressing "SEND", I set it down next to my plate to await her response.

Valerie, my mother, set down some toast on my plate.

"Did you have a good night's sleep, Mary?" Sometimes I wondered if my mother was deaf. She never seemed to listen when I told her to call me Alice (my actual name is Mary Alice Brandon) and somehow she seemed to be the only person in the entire neighborhood who didn't hear my screams when I had I nightmare. My father, Philip, I knew, was well aware of my bad dreams and was normally the one who would question me about them with his cold stare. Luckily, on Mondays he had to work earlier so he had already left quite a while ago. My brothers seemed to be the only ones who cared, comforting me when I broke down, making me laugh when I felt like never smiling again, and protecting me with their lives. I would do anything in the world for them.

They had already finished their breakfasts and were waiting for me in the living room. I was about to get up to put my plate in the washing machine when my cell phone beeped, indicating that I had just receive a message. It was Bella.

**U never forget, do u? **sigh** Jeans, new shirt u gave me, black jacket + red All-Stars. See u at school, hon!**

Bella, my completely clumsy, fashion ignorant friend. How I ended up being friends with the exact opposite of myself is crazy, but I guess opposites attract, for example my best friend in the world had been my opposite so I guess there is just something wrong with me. I quickly wrote her back:

**When will u learn that I never forget anything? Oh and, forget the jacket. I don't think it will rain 2day.**

After dumping my plate, I headed over to my brothers for them to drive me to school. Since my last "stunt" my parents had decided it would be "better for me" if I were banned from using my car for the rest of my high school years. So now I had to have my brothers drive me to school every morning. I missed the days when I would drive with Cynthia in our car to school every morning. The Forks High Twins. I missed those days. My life had been just too perfect to be true. That's why someone up there decided to ruin it forever.

As my brothers headed out the front door they picked up a coat and an umbrella each from the cupboard, but I simply ignored the place and walked right past.

The weather outside was filled with heavy clouds, indicating rain, but I knew it wouldn't fall, at least not for now, regardless of what the weatherman was saying.

I stepped into the backseat of the Emmett's Jeep and closed the door with a bang.

"Careful!" Emmett's agitated voice came from the driver's seat, "I know you are frustrated, but there's no need for you to take it out on the car. The poor thing doesn't enjoy being messed around with."

I just rolled my eyes. I knew he was attempting to be funny and make me laugh but today I simply wasn't in the mood.

As Edward jumped in, he looked back at me, "Hey, Alice, where is your coat? This _is_ Forks you know."

"It's not going to rain today," I replied dully.

"But, Ali, look at the sky. It's about to pour," said Emmett.

"Guys, just trust me, it's not going to rain today,"

They shrugged their shoulders.

"Just don't come crying to us when you come back home soaked through 'cause I'm not lending you my umbrella," said Emmett.

"Don't worry, it won't happen," I guaranteed them.

My twin and I were, you could say, _different_. No one knew it but the two of us. I had a sort of premonition, I would get ideas of things that would happen in the future, and sometimes I even had visions, though they were very blurry. My strongest type came in my dreams. I would see things in clear colors and I could hear everything as though I was there. As if I were inside a movie, but the only difference was that they actually happened. But my visions were only 90% accurate. People change their minds, the visions change. But things like the weather were always right.

Cynthia's "power" was the opposite of mine. Hers like mine came in blurry visions or vivid dreams. But hers worked with the past and present. She would see how things happened in the past or in the present, but through another point of view. Her visions of the past got her the best grades in history of the entire class and she was always going on about how this book or another got things wrong. But at times she would see important things like when there were bombing attempts or crimes she would be able to go back in the past and see who did it. I've lost count of how many anonymous phone calls we've already made to the police, the FBI, and even once the CIA, helping them solve crimes. It was fun. But now those days were over.

By the time we parked in the school parking lot, the sky was baby blue flecked with cotton balls. The warning bell rang just as we climbed out of the car, so I turned to my brothers.

"Told you so," I whispered, before running like a bat in hell to my first period class.

From behind me I heard Emmett shout, "Since when are you a psychic, huh pixie?"

That put a grin on my face, "Since I was born, brother dear, since I was born," I murmured under my breath laughing lightly.

Having missed homeroom, I headed straight to my second period class. Throwing an apologetic smile at my teacher, I sat in my desk, dropping my book-bag to the floor with a slight 'thump'.

"Class," the teacher began, "Today we will be welcoming two new students to our school. They are twins and will be in our Social Studies class this year. I want you all to help them fit in. Come in kids."

Twins? Oh no! Now I will have a daily reminder of how my life could've been.

Then in through the door came a boy and a girl. Both blond, both gorgeous. I looked at the boy's face and my breath hitched in my throat as a vision overcame me. This was the strongest vision that I've ever had and it made me lose all coherent feeling by its intensity.


End file.
